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VMDude
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Name: Brooks
Country: United States
State: Texas
Metro: Dallas
Gender: Male
Interests: Laughter, Cars, Singing, People. No particular order. Wait, maybe that is the right order.
Expertise: Laughter, Cars, Singing, hanging out, being a pal.
Occupation: Accounting/Finance
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Member Since:
9/9/2005
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| I'm pretty sure I have the flu. I haven't felt like this in years & years. It must have started yesterday right after lunch when I suddenly required an impromptu 4-5 hour nap that I didn't have time for. I was astonished I slept that long. And at 10:15 last night I was exhausted and ready for bed. I took some Nyquil since I was feeling a little congested.
Today, all my muscles and joints ache and I have a from-time-to-time cough. That's probably just the pneumonia setting in.
I was pretty sure I had a thermometer somewhere and, since I was sure I had fever, I rummaged the medicine cabinet. Yep, there it is - electronic. I just don't remember whether it's rectal or oral, so I decided to see what it tasted like.
Apparently it's oral, but I probably should have washed it off before I used it because it dawned on me who knows, it may have Old Flu Germs On It from the last time I used it. Oh well, too late now.
I pushed the button to turn it on and it displayed "7". I thought, "Ok, this thing is shot. how can it show 7 when it's obviously not 7 degrees in the room, even if this is Australia. So I powered it back off and then on again. Still 7. Oh well, if I have 114, then I'll subtract 7.
So I take it -- and when I go to read the thermometer, that's when I realize I have it upside down, and to see that I am actually running at 99.2 degrees, I have to turn it around. That's when I realize that wasn't "7", but "L" for "Low", which is what it should have said.
And I still have the directions and didn't even read them - too hard to get them out of the little tube.
So I guess I better go load up on fruit juices at the store. If I die from this, here is my final log. If it gets way worse, I'll write my will in here, so if you think you might be in it, then you should stay tuned. 
UPDATE: I JUST REMEMBERED THE ECHINACEA!!! We'll see if that helps.
Then, I'm going to make some chicken soup. I had already thawed the chicken, which I was contemplating its being shake & bake. Now it's going to be soup. The "Cayenne Pepper" sort, as I have a whole big full unopened bottle. THAT will clear out my sinuses!!!! Bye Bye, flu!
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| I swear, I'm gonna start an advice column. But first, let me say, they have revamped Xanga since I was here last and this totally SUCKS. Took me FOREVER to even try to figure out how to post a new blog.
Anyway.
I know what this world needs. It needs a common sense no-nonsense advice column that won't tiptoe around the elephant in the parlor and will tell it like it is. And I'm gonna write it. I just need to know a good non-already-taken URL for it. In the meantime, let me tell you what spurred this. It was today's "Dear Abby" column. There were 2 letters, and I don't know who Dear Abby actually is, but they've lost their damn common sense. First, here is today's letter and how Dear Abby answered it.
I shall follow that with how *I* would answer the letter.
"Dear Abby, I have a close friend, "Ethel", about whom I'm very worried. She sees a therapist, "Amy", for depression and suicidal thoughts, and while I think it's a wonderful idea, I'm concerned because she has become friends with her therapist.
"This has gone as far as gift-giving, attending the therapist's wedding, etc. I always thought it was a breach of professional boundaries for a therapist to become friends with his or her patient.
"I am the one who gets the 4 a.m. phone calls when Ethel is feeling like the world is ending for her. She says my son and I are the only reason she doesn't do something to herself. When I ask Ethel why she doesn't discuss this with Amy, or call her at 4 a.m., Ethel says she doesn't want to burden her with her problems.
"I try to make as much time as I can for Ethel, but I'm worn out and worried about those 4 a.m. phone calls. After seeing this therapist for five years, wouldn't you think Ethel would at least be a little bit better?
"I have suggested that Ethel find another therapist, but all she says is that Amy is her friend. What else can I do?"
~~Sara in Salem, OR
OK, fine. And here is Dear Abby's reply.
"Dear Sara, It's apparent that Amy is no longer acting in the role of therapist. And because she has become a friend, Ethel doesn't want to impose upon her with her problems.
"The next time Ethel calls you at 4 a.m., tell her that she is calling the wrong person. The things she is telling you are the very things that her therapist needs to know about in order to help her. If Ethel refuses, then tell her that what she needs is a therapist with a fresh approach. If Amy is truly her friend, Amy will understand that and give her a referral while maintaining their personal relationship."
OK, and here is how *I* would have answered Sara's letter in My New Advice Column That I Am Going To Start:
"Dear Sara,
Are you fucking kidding me????? YOU are the one here who needs therapy. Can you not spell 'M A N I P U L A T I O N'? Decades ago, the people who run the phone company, apparently tired of people calling them at home to bitch to them personally about the shitty service they receive, invented a way to UNPLUG the goddamn phone when they didn't want to be disturbed at 4 a.m. They even came out with "Caller ID" so that on those rare occasions when they had the phone plugged in, they could decide whether to take the call or not. They foisted this off on the public as a benefit to their customers, but this really came about because they were looking out for their own asses and, true to Phone Company Policies Everywhere, it was a new way to ignore the customers' wants and needs and gripes.
"Nevertheless, you, too, have that capability. Turn OFF your fucking phone. Unplug the thing. At LEAST when you go to bed at night. If you think you have some need that actually REQUIRES you to be able to take phone calls at 4a.m. from other people, then decide if that is worth another $39.99 a month and if it is, get a 2nd phone, and give that # to anyone who you would LIKE to hear from at 4 a.m., but NOT to HEllthel. Here's your new voice mail outgoing message: "Hello, you have reached Sara's voice mail. A lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine. Please leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you when it is convenient for me, if I deem it worthwhile." <BEEP>
"Write to me again in 6 weeks when you realize you have your life back. But I suspect you actually more enjoy bitching about the 4 a.m. calls than you want them to cease. So good luck."
There were actually 2 letters in today's column. I'm not even going to type in the other one or the response, but let me just say this in answer to the writer:
Dear Concerned Grandpa In Greenville, S.C.: You need to FUCK OFF. It's not your kid. Just because you were Captain Of The X-Chromosomes and you raised a tree-hugging oiled-bird-wiping daughter who obviously wants her kid to be a gay momma's boy doesn't mean her husband has to put up with that shit. MYOFB and let his daddy raise him as he sees fit, guns and all.
There. Yes, I'm going to start an advice column. So feel free to start sending me your problems. I'll solve 'em all. I really can't wait to get started.
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| Years ago, I signed up as a survey participant. I get 1 or 2 surveys a month to take. They are pretty varied and sometimes interesting. Other times, like today, they go like this (and keep in mind, each question is on a separate page, and you don't see the next page until you click there):
Have you bought any clothing articles during the time period xx/xx/xx thru xx/xx/xx?
If so, what were they? and then a jillion check boxes.
Who bought this item? (you, someone else in the household, blah blah)
Who did you buy it for? (self, someone else in household, gift, blah blah)
Which stores did you shop at? and another jillion check boxes.
What time of day did you make the purchase?
Are you male or female? What is your age? etc.
Then today's survey took a bizarre twist, asking all kinds of detailed questions about my purchased item(s).
This has happened in the past, where the questions get so that I cannot provide answers, and the woman ("Janet") who runs the survey company (I suppose, since that's who I always get a friendly note from when I complain) e-mails me back and promises that they'll take my complaints into consideration next time.
For instance (and I'm making this up): Which fast food did you have for lunch today? (and the choices are McDonald's or Burger King). Well, if I ate at Taco Bueno, I can't even go on to the next question because I DIDN'T EAT AT EITHER ONE OF THOSE.
So I'm always ending up in that kind of corner in the survey, and always e-mailing Janet, and then she e-mails me back, and really & truly, they have made some improvements since we have been corresponding.
Here is a copy of the letter I had to send to Janet tonight, when the questions got so detailed and ridiculous that I was unable to complete the survey.
Go ahead and laugh. I am only here to amuse you with my life. I should probably clean this up and write a book. Here we go, and this is my ACTUAL LETTER to Janet, and I'm including the survey below as well, so YOU ALL feel free to go and fill it out, but just BE HONEST in your answers.
=======================================================
Dear Janet,
Here's another survey I cannot fill out.
The only item on the list I have bought in the last 30 days is underwear. For me.
I went to Houston for the weekend to visit friends. I forgot to pack any underwear. I ran into Wal-Mart and bought some.
Today is Tuesday, 3 days later.
I
have *NO CLUE* what brand it was and didn't care; I have *NO CLUE* how
much I paid, and didn't care; I have *NO CLUE* whether they are prints
or solids (and didn't care) (and don't wish to go dig thru the dirty
clothes to find out 
). I don't know HOW MANY were in the package and didn't care about
that either. I have no clue about any warranty or thread counts, material, weave structure, packaging, printing on the packaging, blah blah blah. My only concerns were (a) size? <check>; (b) enough
to last thru the weekend? <check> and I was done and out of there
like a shot.
So I am unable to answer your 64,000 questions regarding said underwear. I am so terribly sorry.
I really think women pay a lot more attention to this kind of thing than men do.
This
is a true story. You're probably laughing your ass off, and I don't
blame you a bit, but that's EXACTLY what happened, and what I did about
it, and how it went, and how much I remember about the purchase.
Oh, and
if I had just needed new underwear because all the old ones wore out,
then that's STILL how I would have made my purchasing decisions and
STILL how much I would know about it 3 days after the fact.
Survey@npdor.com wrote: Dear NPDOR Member,
You have been selected to participate in a new NPDOR survey.
To begin your survey, please click here or access the link below. If you are having trouble clicking on this link, please copy and paste it into your browser:
http://Survey.npdor.com/wix/p77996101.aspx?r=3213&s=YQGDFWOD
This survey is only open for a limited time, so please respond as soon as possible.
We appreciate your continued participation in NPDOR surveys. As always, your responses will be kept confidential.
Regards,
Janet Hall
Director, NPD Online Research
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message because either you or someone else using this email address has
registered to become a member of our Research Team at www.npdor.com. To unsubscribe, please click here.
You may also reply to this email with the word "Unsubscribe" in the
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Your personalized survey link:
http://Survey.npdor.com/wix/p77996101.aspx?r=3213&s=YQGDFWOD | | |
| Today I went to Austin with some people I have met on the internet, to meet other people I have met on the internet. Yeah, Yeah, yeah, a car thing. We are in the best car club in the world - bar none - more information, more data, more sharing, more e-mails. There are approximately 600 of us. There is no official "parent organization" - we just periodically get together on our own when the mood strikes us. See http://www.imperialclub.org/ for more information. I own a '61 4-door and a '63 Crown Convertible.
So we banded together and met up for a 3-hour lunch/chat session and then barely made it in time for the car show. We went to this: http://www.texasccs.com/ to represent Imperials near and far. And a fine lot we were: we showed up in some kind of minivan covered in stickers, a Dodge pickup, and a Lincoln. But we were ALL ABOUT THE IMPERIALS even if none of ours will run.
Anyway - I had gotten separated from everyone else (surprise, surprise!) and came around a corner to immediately spot her standing there: tall, proud, distinguished, absolutely gorgeous. I was immediately thunderstruck. I gasped; my hand immediately grabbed my chest over my heart; my chest began to ache deep inside; my breath caught in my throat; my knees got weak. I stood still, afraid to move, as I stared at her... and tears welled up in my eyes and I may have begun to drool.
Because just across the aisle stood a 1931 Pierce Arrow Model 80 5-passenger Club Brougham.
I gutted it up and managed to begin to walk closer. I put my head in the windows and inhaled deeply several times, mesmerized by the scent. I walked around the whole car twice. Presentation is everything -- there was a huge vase of flowers on a wooden stand in front of and to the right of the right front corner. On the front seats was a top hat. It was all decked out and ready to go.
As I stood in front of the car, trying to take it all in, they began announcing the winners of the show. The Pierce Arrow had won (I'm completely goosebumped again as I type this) First Place in the show; Drivers' Choice; and Best Of Show. (The only award it didn't take was "People's Choice", which probably went to ONE OF THE 400,000 CHEVROLETS THERE.)
I spotted the owner's name: Sylvia Jung. I headed for the booth where they were making the announcements to try to find her. By the time I could get there, everyone was gone, and no one remembered what she looked like. I raced back to the car.
And there was Sylvia, setting up the directors' chairs that she'd just won, in front of the car. I walked up to her and said "Is this your car?" "Yes, it is!" she proudly said. I said "I've wanted a Pierce Arrow my whole life."
"I have two of them", she was happy to inform me. The other is a 1936 Roadster with the rumble seat, just exactly like the one that was in a calendar that has been hanging on one of my walls since approximately 1976.
And that's when I popped the question. Right there on the spot, I took Sylvia by the arm and said
"WILL YOU MARRY ME?"
She didn't think that her husband of 37 years would go for that -- especially since he bought this car for her ($25,000 -- in a barn -- covered in chicken shit) when she wanted it for her birthday. This would probably have been THE ONE DAY to have shaved, done something with my hair, and dressed a little better.
She actually owns 9 cars. She doesn't believe in selling any of them - one is a 1966 Mustang that she bought brand new and says she never traded it because she couldn't get anything for it.
This is the first time the Pierce has even been shown. She's had it for 9 years. It came from NM, a barn find that she got wind of. The interior is 100% all original. The man had spray-painted (maybe from cans) the outside in 2 different hideous colors. He had died and she bought it from the estate, who had had it appraised. All she did mechanically to it was put in a battery, gas, oil, and fire it up. She trailers it around because she gets terrified of someone running into it while staring at it (funny to watch her demonstrate!).
Her other cars besides the Pierce Arrows and the Mustang: something from the 20's that I never heard of before; an A, a T, and 3 others that went in one ear and out the other. There might have been a Hudson or something in there somewhere.
What a fantastic wonderful day I had. Joe, Doug and I all drove down together and talked cars all the way there. At lunch and dinner, with just more people, we talked cars. We talked cars while we walked around and talked about each car we stopped at. We all hated the Chevrolets on general principle. There was, though, a 1932 Chevrolet that had been in the same family for 75 years - the man's grandfather bought it brand new. I sure had a nice long chat with that guy too....
After I saw the Pierce Arrow, I did not look at another car the rest of the time. I must have talked to Sylvia for an hour. What a BEAUTIFUL car. What a wonderful day I had.... I'll remember today for a long, long, long, long time.
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| The Top 10 Reasons I Procrastinate
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